


Hit or Miss

by hostagesfic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cock & Ball Torture, Comeplay, Dom/sub, Hair-pulling, M/M, S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“<i>Yes</i>,” Zayn huffs, hands tangling in the sheets. The anticipation has him shaking, and he knows- he really needs to let Danny know what’s good, knows they’ll have to look this up properly before Danny agrees to do it again, but for now he’s consumed with raw, aching want. “Please, good. Yeah.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit or Miss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hungerpunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungerpunch/gifts).



> One thing led to another, the Danny thirst was strong, and suddenly we found ourselves writing CBT again. For Lo, who's a total babeski. 
> 
> (P would like to apologize for the shit title- this is what we named the doc, and my brain isn't working much today, so... we're keepin' it.)

Danny’s honestly never thought they'd get here, never thought of this. Even though he's- he’s slapped Zayn's bum and put a hand on his throat a couple times, he’s pulled his wrists tight above his head and left bite marks on his thighs that take weeks to fade- even then, he's always been so careful not to _hurt_ Zayn. It's mind blowing that Zayn wants this, needs this, asks for it.

"Hit you where," he says, lowly, soft, hoping in a way that he heard wrong, is taking it wrong.

Zayn clings to his shoulders, hides his face in Danny's neck. " _There_ , Danny," he whines, head twitching in an aborted downward gesture- "My. M'prick, my-"

"Hit y'cock," Danny repeats, throat closing up, words tight. "Zayn, you don't- I can't-" he bites his lips. 

"You _can_ ," Zayn wails, nuzzling Danny's skin, gone just at the thought of getting what he wants. "Need, Danny, please."

"Be _quiet_ ," Danny hisses, "Jesus, Zayn, I'll do it, just- fuck." His hands are shaking at Zayn's waist, at the small of his back, and he can feel Zayn's cock hard against his thigh. He has no idea how he'll manage it, but he's said he will, now, and Zayn honestly looks like he'll cry without it. (Danny flinches at the thought that he might cry _with_ it, and that shouldn't make his own dick twitch in his trousers, but it does).

Zayn shuts his mouth, looks up at Danny with big, glassy eyes and ruts against his thigh, eyelashes fluttering on particularly good nudges. He's very good at being quiet when Danny tells him to.

This much is familiar. Zayn’s speechless want and anticipation and Danny’s need to give him what he wants, take _care_ of him. “Lie down on the bed,” he says, gruffly, trying to pull himself together, trying to steady his breathing and his hands. “Get y’cock out. No, just- take off y’clothes.” Danny swallows hard, rubs his hands over his eyes, temples. 

Not wasting a second, Zayn doesn’t so much as give Danny a kiss, scrambles onto the mattress while trying to pull his shirt over his head eagerly. He’s clumsy in his excitement, gives Danny an embarrassed smile as he tugs his jeans off, dragging his underwear down with them and sighing when his cock falls hard against his stomach, wet at the tip.

Danny shakes his head at him, smiles a little as he steps out of his own sweats. It’s impossible not to in the face of Zayn like this, something he’ll never quite get used to. And just when he thought he _was_ , something like this happens. “I’ve never done this before,” he reminds Zayn, crawling onto the mattress between his spread thighs, still in his shirt and boxers. He runs his hands up Zayn’s legs, feels out the trembling in the muscles under the pale skin. “I don’t know how.”

Biting his lip, Zayn frowns, huffs through his nose. He won’t speak, not after Danny told him not to, but it’s not like he’d know much more than Danny. All he knows is recently he was with the lads, messing about and getting in trouble, and somehow in the middle of a slap fight Louis ended up landing a hit to Zayn’s crotch, and. He crumbled, of course, but part of him _liked_ it, and Danny’s always been the best at giving Zayn the things he likes, the things he needs. He shrugs, helpless, and lifts his bum off the bed, tips his hips up and whines.

Danny closes his eyes for a moment, digging fingers into the insides of Zayn’s thighs. “Okay,” he says, after a second. “Okay, just- tell me, you’re- allowed to talk, you’ve gotta tell me, Zayn, what’s. Good and what’s not, alright?” He brings one hand up, strokes his thumb down the shaft of Zayn’s cock, rubs the vein standing out. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Zayn huffs, hands tangling in the sheets. The anticipation has him shaking, and he knows- he really needs to let Danny know what’s good, knows they’ll have to look this up properly before Danny agrees to do it again, but for now he’s consumed with raw, aching want. “Please, good. Yeah.”

Danny snorts a little, laughing, because he knows that much, but it’s good that Zayn’s able to specify. “Good,” he nods, verbalizing his thoughts, squeezing Zayn’s leg. “I’m- I’m going to hit you, now.”

Zayn nods eagerly, trying for a crooked little smile up at Danny. He struggles to keep his eyes open, reflexively wants to clench them shut, but. But he needs to see this too, see if Danny likes it as much as he does, because that’s just as important as getting his fix.

It isn’t hard. It can’t be, with how Danny’s hand instinctively jerks back from the motion, how he can’t even watch it happen, has to look away as his palm connects with Zayn’s cock. It’s off, too, hitting just below the head and glancing away, making his dick wobble but not doing much more. Even so, Zayn’s breath hitches, chest going tight, ribs stark and stomach tense, and Danny still nearly bites through his lower lip. “Zayn?” he asks, looking down to his cock, still hard, newly glossy across the head, bobbing up against his tummy, and then back up to his face.

It takes Zayn a moment to recover, to regain control of his voice and _say_ something instead of whimpering needily. The sting has more of a bite like this, skin on skin without the layers of clothes in between, and that’s the spark that he was missing when he did this on accident, the nameless _something_ that made him so curious, that made him ask Danny. “ _More_ ,” he groans, knuckles gone white, knotted in the sheets.

Danny can’t hesitate, just gives it, quick and harder, head bowed to watch this time. Zayn’s cock is so pretty, filled out and flushed, Danny’s always thought, but seeing him _enjoy_ this makes it easier to bring his hand back and slap it with his open palm a second time. 

Zayn moans, tips his head back but keeps his eyes fixed intently on Danny. He can feel the ghost heat of Danny’s palm where it caught his balls, has to swallow hard to tell him how much he _loves_ it, how much more he needs. “Yeah,” he gasps, cants his hips up again, offering himself up to Danny and begging at the same time.

“Jesus,” Danny breathes, barely audible. It feels thick in his throat, like he’s about to choke on the sheer amount of _trust_ Zayn’s giving him right now. He wants so badly to be worthy of that, to deserve that, to do his part and give Zayn all that he is and can, and it steadies his hands, has him gripping Zayn’s thigh and holding him down against the mattress for the next strike, ruthless and without warning.

Just as unexpected, Zayn squeezes his eyes shut and mutters a curse and _comes_ , just like that, with Danny still pressing his leg down and the hot sting of his hand on Zayn’s cock coursing through all of him. Zayn can’t think, can’t process anything- he vaguely registers Danny wrapping a loose fist around his dick and finishing him off, which is nice, but the words to thank him for it are hidden behind a thick fog, blissful.

As soon as Danny’s sure Zayn is done, he’s stripping off his boxers and crawling up Zayn’s body, straddling his stomach, cradling Zayn’s head in his hands. He’s probably getting come in Zayn’s hair, but they’ll worry about that later, because for now Danny is checking his pupils as if he’s worried Zayn might be concussed, watching his chest rise and fall and feeling his pulse race in his neck. As reluctant as he is to pull Zayn up from something obviously good, he has to be sure they’re okay. “Hey,” he murmurs, “hey, Zayn, jaan, c’mon, talk to me, hey.”

Zayn shoves the words out with an effort, opening his eyes blearily. “Hey,” he slurs, “good, Dan, good.” He thinks he might make a vague thumbs up. 

Danny can’t help it, he laughs, weak and relieved, sinks down over Zayn’s limp body and kisses his forehead, cheek, chin, the tip of his nose. “Thought I’d broke you,” he whispers.

“Nah,” Zayn says, clearing his throat. “But c’n I-”

“Yeah,” Danny nods, drawing back, “yeah, lemme-” he goes to wrap his fingers around Zayn’s throat and pauses. It’s the easiest way he knows for what Zayn’s requesting, a quick fix to put him under good and solid, but. He reaches behind himself instead, wrapping his hand around Zayn’s softening cock and squeezing, firmly. 

Zayn keens, back arching, and his mouth falls open. Danny can see the exact moment his eyes go glossy, face flushes with how far he’s gone. 

“Good boy,” he says, softly, and lets Zayn’s cock rest against his stomach, wipes his hand on his own thigh. “There y’go.”

Sighing, Zayn lets go of the sheets, smiles dopily at Danny. He moves slowly, like Danny settled on his ribs weighs down every inch of him, lifts a hand up to pet Danny’s hip beneath his tee and trail down to the dark curls at the base of his dick. When he wraps his hand around Danny’s cock he sighs like it’s comforting, and in a way it is- Danny’s been amazing to him and he wants to give everything he has back, whatever Danny might want or need.

“So damn pretty like this, jaan,” Danny huffs, rocks his hips to fuck into Zayn’s hand. It’s dry, and if Zayn were to tighten his fingers around him it wouldn’t feel good at all, but for a moment he’s happy to watch Zayn settle into his new state, to let him adjust.

Zayn’s cock is still throbbing, stinging, as he goes completely soft, but he almost wishes he could get it up again just to be more actively involved. For now, it’s enough to touch Danny. He rubs his fingertips over Danny’s cock, nuzzles his face into the pillow to feel the soft-worn cotton.

“Babe, Zayn,” Danny says, clearing his throat- he’s got a different tone now, familiar in its huskiness and firmness, making Zayn shiver happily- and brushing his fringe off his forehead. “Lemme get you some lube, yeah? Y’can get me off just like this if y’want, but ‘mma need a bit of slick.”

Patting Danny’s cockhead with a slight frown, Zayn nods. He wants- yeah, he can do that. He likes the feel of Danny holding him down like this, not quite pinned down by his wrists and ankles because that makes him a bit antsy, but under him, almost like Danny’s protecting him. Danny always, always protects him, especially when Zayn’s in a faraway place like this. He’s relieved that all Danny has to do is lean over to the side a bit to reach in the bedside drawer- his stomach ends up really close to Zayn’s face, and he lifts his head to peck a kiss just below Danny’s ribs through his soft t-shirt, grinning.

Danny laughs, feeling the soft press of Zayn’s lips on his chest and in his dick, making him shudder a little as he leans back, settling again with the lube in hand. Zayn holds out his cupped hand for the slick, and Danny flips the cap, squirts a good-sized amount into his palm. 

“Alright,” Danny says, setting the lube back down on the bedside table and leaning down to kiss Zayn’s forehead. “Y’comfortable?”

Zayn nods, “Comfy, yeah,” and a thick drop of lube ends up rolling down the inside of his arm as he gets his hand around Danny but it doesn’t deter him. He slicks Danny’s cock with slow, smooth pulls, mouth half-open in concentration, and shivers happily as Danny settles on him better, knees bracketing Zayn’s ribs.

Danny leans forward, holds himself up on one hand beside Zayn’s head and gets his other hand in Zayn’s hair, hauling his head up from where he’s been watching his hand and kissing him hard. Zayn’s palm is hot, fingers demanding on Danny’s cock, and he’s using both hands now, jacking him quickly, lube dripping onto his own chest.

Zayn has to choose whether to focus on his hands or on his mouth, which is confusing for about three seconds before he decides to let Danny kiss his half-smile, sliding his palms over Danny’s cockhead and pressing his fingertips right under the crown, squeezing hard around the base. His smile widens when Danny gets distracted, too, breaks off from sucking Zayn’s lower lip with a raspy, “Fuck, jaan,” rocking his hips to fuck Zayn’s hands.

It doesn’t take long for Danny to feel it building in his gut, goes down on his elbows over Zayn. It slows Zayn’s motion, his hands sandwiched between their chests, Danny’s shirt rucked up somewhere along his ribs, but Danny’s breath is hot on his jaw, and Zayn whines, determined, rubs his thumbs up and down the shaft of Danny’s cock.

“Dan,” Zayn mumbles, smearing a messy kiss on Danny’s cheek, leaving a hand around the base of Danny’s cock, squeezing in time with the tight little strokes of his other. It takes much more effort than he’d like to exert, slightly clearing his head when he’d rather stay pleasantly floaty and slow, but getting to take Danny apart is worth the trouble.

Zayn’s efforts pay off when Danny scrapes his teeth along the scruffy line of his jaw, grunts something approving and lets go, comes, staining Zayn’s skin in hot spurts. His fingers find Zayn’s hair and pull hard at his crown, like he’s dragging Zayn back down as a reward, shuddering as he winds down from his own orgasm.

Closing his eyes, Zayn’s hands slow down on Danny’s cock, coaxing the last droplets of come from the slit and through his fingers, letting go only to rub the cooling mess around on his chest. Danny raises himself partially, sliding off Zayn to rest at his side to watch. It’s hot and sweet, the way Zayn’s face is so clear, obviously happy even with his eyes tightly shut, contrasting with his wet fingers, smearing Danny’s come across his tattoos. 

“ _Someone’_ s messy,” Danny laughs, and although it pinks Zayn’s cheeks, he doesn’t stop. Danny’s favorite part, the best thing about having Zayn like this, is how open he is, shameless, both giving and demanding in his own way. “Pretty, babe.”

Zayn hums and blinks his eyes open slowly, grinning lazily at Danny. He can feel himself moving back towards the surface, the place where minutes start rushing by in real time, where the world isn’t as warm and golden, but as long as Danny’s there, he can’t bring himself to mind. Zayn’s never been able to stay down for long, and it already feels like he’s had a vacation, just enough of a fix to settle him down and ensure he’ll sleep easy. He yawns, and reaches for Danny, curls against him, trying to get in as close as they were before.

Danny is warm and welcoming, a solid presence that wraps Zayn up, draping an arm over his stomach despite the mess going tacky on his skin. He only pulls back to look closely at Zayn, tipping Zayn’s chin up with his knuckles for him to look him in the eye, careful. He begins asking questions, waiting in between each option for Zayn’s nod or shake, keeping it quick and short. “Water, babe? Bath? Snack? Tea? Flannel?”

Zayn hesitates at the last one- he knows he’ll feel gross in the morning with the come drying on him, but he really, _really_ doesn’t want Danny to go. He whimpers instead of shaking his head or nodding, looks down at himself with a pout. “Don’t want you to go.”

Danny kisses him, quick and sweet, and nods. “Alright. Let’s wipe you off a bit, though, yeah? We can use my shirt, s’soft.” Zayn still isn’t pleased about letting Danny sit up to shrug off the shirt in question, and it’s already a little worse for the wear from their snuggling, but Danny rubs Zayn down with the dry bits, getting even the sticky, drying bit of come from under his chin before he lays back down. 

“Was good,” Zayn mumbles, holding up his hands in Danny’s face to remind him of their stickiness. Danny huffs apologetically and pauses in wiping his own palms clean to dry Zayn’s, tossing the shirt over the edge of the bed when they’re both done. 

“Glad you liked it,” Danny says, and realizes that he means it. He still doesn’t _get_ it, but he gets _Zayn_ at the most basic level, always. It’s what their entire relationship is based on, the give and take and the understanding. 

Zayn nods, affirmative, and licks his lips. In the morning, Danny will have to remember to find him some chapstick. “Liked it,” Zayn echoes.

Danny pulls him in until Zayn can bury his face in the crook of Danny’s neck. “Me too,” he says. “Yeah, me too.”


End file.
